


The Captains Jones

by HooksLovelySwan (ChainOfPaperClips)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-05-26 01:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6218938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChainOfPaperClips/pseuds/HooksLovelySwan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma sets off into the Underworld with her family and friends to rescue her True Love, Killian Jones. But what would happen if they were first directed to the wrong Captain Jones?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is just a little two or three shot fic I decided to write after seeing the promo of Killian and Meg in the Underworld. Seeing him refer to himself as Captain Killian Jones got the wheels in my brain turning, and I wondered what might happen if our heroes were mistakenly directed to the wrong Captain Jones...

Emma picked at the gingerbread on her plate, crushing bits of it between her thumb and forefinger. They had reconvened in the Underworld's diner after their other attempts to track down Killian had failed; no one they talked to had any useful information on Killian's whereabouts. The owner of said diner was unwilling to accommodate their loitering, however, unless they ordered something from the menu. Mary-Margaret had quickly responded by ordering gingerbread and tea for everyone in their group, muttering afterward about it being better than the alternative. No one was quite brave enough to eat it, however, after Henry reminded them of Persephone's fate when she'd eaten food from the Underworld.

"I still say we should find James," David was saying as Emma finally shoved the plate of gingerbread away from her. "If he knew we were down here within minutes of our arrival, he probably knows why. He might know something useful."

"What, and you think he's just going to volunteer the information?" Regina snorted. "Even _if_ he knows something, what motivation does he have to share it with us? Based on what your wife here just told us, he doesn't even _like_ you."

"Regina's right," Robin cut in. "Your brother has his own agenda down here. They all do. Whatever score he wishes to settle with you is unlikely to tie in to our own agenda."

The rest of their conversation was lost to Emma as the bells on the diner door jangled loudly and an unfamiliar voice shouted her name. She stood up, slipping out of the booth as a brunette woman wild eyes tumbled through the door, gasping for breath. Her clothes were torn and spattered with blood, and her face was streaked with dirt, but it was not her appearance Emma focused on, but her half-incoherent cries for Emma.

"I'm Emma Swan," she told the woman. "Who sent you?"

"Captain," she wheezed, pitching forward in a faint, "Jones."

-/-

"Too much blood loss," Regina observed clinically, as Emma sat on the diner floor, examining the stranger for injuries. She gave up after a few helpless moments. With all of the other injuries she already had, spotting any new bumps or bruises was near impossible.

"We should get her somewhere safe and comfortable," Mary-Margaret agreed, "where we can stabilize her. Find out what she knows."

"That could take hours, days," Emma argued. "We can't wait that long. You saw how Killian looked. He's suffering."

Regina eyed her with an expression that, had it come from anybody else, might have been mistaken for compassionate. "And how do  you propose to find him? We don't have any more useful information about him than we did five minutes ago. If you want to find your Captain, our best course is to revive this woman."

"Excuse me," a feminine voice interrupted, "I couldn't help overhearing..."

A willowy woman with glossy black hair and ivy-colored eyes stood nearby, her expression hopeful but uncertain. "Did I hear right? You're looking for Captain Jones?"

"Who the hell are you?" Regina demanded.

"Eurydice," she frowned back. "And I've been all over this Underworld. If you want to find Captain Jones, you'll have to go much deeper. All of this," she said with a sweeping gesture toward the rest of their surroundings, "is just the surface level. It houses those of lesser crimes, or those who've earned Hades' favor. The man you're looking for can be found on the seventh level. Wear armor or heavy clothing. And watch out for the serpents."

"If you know so much, why don't you take us yourself?" Regina countered. "How do we know this isn't a trap arranged by Hades?"

"Mom," Henry hissed with wide eyes. "This is _Eurydice_."

"Because," she answered with a sad smile, "I'm trapped here until sunset."

"I thought all the souls were trapped here until they completed their unfinished business," Mary-Margaret said with confusion.

"No, some of us are still here at the expense of someone else's unfinished business," she sighed, "doomed to travel every day from the lowest depths of the Underworld to the gateway between life and death...and never stepping beyond its threshold." Her expression became somber. "Good luck on your quest," she said, turning away toward the counter. "And whatever you do, don't look behind you," she called over her shoulder.

-/-

The lower they traveled within the Underworld, the more Emma seemed to sweat. It reminded her of a line she'd heard in a movie once, about hell being just a sauna. The father in it hadn't been off the mark with that one, she reflected. Dabbing at her forehead with a handkerchief borrowed from her mother, she thought of Killian and worried what sort of horrors he might be enduring at this very moment.

She crushed the handkerchief in her hand, angry at herself for thinking of her own comfort when Killian was being tortured. A little heat was the least of anyone's problems.

-/-

Emma was going mad. They'd been in the bowels of this dungeon of horrors for what felt like months. In truth, none of them had any idea how long they had really been down in the Underworld. It hadn't been long enough for them to feel hungry or thirsty. Or perhaps they had, and food simply wasn't necessary down here, the surface-level diner notwithstanding.

"Mom."

Emma looked up, startled from her thoughts by Henry.

"We'll find him."

She smiled wanly, reaching over to squeeze his hand. The question had never been whether or not she'd find him. She knew it in her bones that she would. The question was what kind of state Killian would be in when she found him.

"I know."

-/-

"We're here," her mother whispered. They followed her down the spiraling passage, her bow drawn and arrow nocked as the staircase descended straight into a massive labyrinth of thorns. Emma eyed them as she passed beneath the arch of twisted brambles; the thorns were long and thick, pointed like daggers. A careless stumble or a scratch, and it would soon be over for the unfortunate recipient.

"I will find you, Killian," she promised herself in a whisper as they trekked their way through the maze. "I swear on my life."

Emma only hoped fate wouldn't collect on that vow.

-/-

But of course, it nearly did when the serpents attacked. Though in what universe the hideous, winged women that attacked could ever be called serpents, she didn't know. Likely, it had something to do with the writhing mass of snakes upon their heads.

"Gorgons!" Mary-Margaret gasped as they swooped down from above.

"Get down!" David snapped, reaching for his shield. He held it up in front of his face, gathering his wife to his side. "Don't look them in the eye!"

"Close your eyes!" Emma shouted at Henry. She grabbed her son, shielding him with her body as she crouched to the floor, screwing her eyes shut. She felt something rake across her back, tearing cloth and flesh, and the instinct to open her eyes and retaliate nearly did her in. "It's okay, I'm here," she told Henry, more out of a need to convince herself as she smoothed down his hair. "It's okay."

A sibilant noise slithered its way into her consciousness. _Nothing is okay without your lover,_ a voice argued. _You need him. Nothing else matters. Leave the boy. Let us help you find him_.

"No," she whimpered.

_He is weak. Dead weight,_ her thoughts hissed at her. _They all are. You could get so much farther by yourself. Leave them._

Her arms began to tremble. "I can't."

_Of course you can. We can show you. We know the way to your love. Let us show you._

Her muscles slackened, her arms going limp.

_We will reunite you. Just open your eyes._

Her eyelids spasmed. She opened her eyes and started to raised her head.

"HEY LADIES," she heard Regina shout, "show this!"

A grotesque, ear-splitting screech that sounded like a cross between squealing tires and a growling cat resonated through the maze. Emma clapped her hands over her ears, squeezing her eyes shut instinctively. The sound dissipated after a few moments, and she gingerly removed her hands, marveling at the still, utter silence that permeated the area after such racket.

"Eyes open and move out," Regina ordered. "Quickly, before they turn back!"

Emma cracked an eye open, peering around cautiously from where she crouched. Two macabre statues towered over her, nearby, and she fell backward with a shout, startled.

"It's okay, mom. They can't hurt you," Henry assured her, helping Emma to her feet. "For now."

"But how..?" She rubbed her forehead, feeling a little disoriented.

Regina held up an silver-plated mirror with a long handle. She placed it in front of her face, reflective side facing out, then peered around it with a wicked grin. "Just a little something I packed for the journey. A queen never leaves home without one."

She just barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. _Great, saved by vanity_ , she thought. _Who would have thought?_

"If it's all the same to you, ladies," Robin said, with an arrow trained on one of the statues, "I believe I'd like be going before the Gorgons over here change back and finish us off."

"He has a point," Mary-Margaret agreed, one her own arrows nocked and ready to shoot.

"So let's go," David said, rounding a wall of the maze, his sword drawn and ready.

Emma followed with a frown, trying to remember her mythology classes in school, but her thoughts felt like they were wrapped in fog. "Wait," she said to no one in particular, "why not just kill them when they're immobile? You know, like in that story with...with..." She struggled, trying to remember the name of the hero who had killed... Shit. She couldn't even remember the name of the one he'd killed.

"Perseus?" Henry supplied with an arch of his brow. He slowed down to walk beside her. "He could only behead Medusa because she was mortal. The other two aren't."

"Which is why we need to put as much ground between them and us as possible," David said. "Hopefully we can lose them before they're aware again."

"Great," she muttered, her steps slowing as she trailed behind the others. Her legs felt heavy, as if she were trudging through a swamp of molasses. "We would get stuck with the immortal...whatever those things are."

"Mom?" Henry asked, his voice sounding strangely distorted and distant. It was almost as if he were...was... Emma paused mid-step, determined to chase down the elusive thought. Somewhere cold and wet? "Mom, are you all right?"

Her vision blurred, and Emma squeezed her eyes shut, feeling nauseous.

Cool, gentle hands grasped her, murmuring unintelligible but soothing words as they probed her for injuries. "Charming!" a voice shouted. "They broke the skin!" There was a scuffle of feet that Emma barely registered, and then she felt the world roll on its side like a ball.

Emma cracked her eyes open and saw everyone peering down at her as she lay stretched out on the ground, her head cradled in her someone's lap. Cool hands pressed to her face, and she shivered, her body spasming. She closed her eyes again. "She's feverish. The venom's advancing fast."

"We need to get the venom out," a female voice said in clipped, business-like tones.

"How do we do that?" a worried, male voice demanded.

"We have to clean the blood of any venom. It won't be easy. Or comfortable."

"Is it safe?" another woman with a gentler voice asked.

"The alternative is considerably less safe," came the harsher voice of the first woman.

"Do it," the male said with conviction.

"Emma?" the gentle woman whispered, stroking her hair, "stay with us." The cool hand laced fingers through Emma's own.

She clung to that simple human presence, the feel of skin on skin, as a tingling warmth spread throughout her body and quickly turned into an unbearable fire beneath her skin. A scream erupted from her throat as the excruciating burn ate her alive from the inside out. She writhed, limbs jerking wildly as she tried in vain to evade the pain.

"Hold her down and gag her," the harsh female voice snapped, "unless you want to draw back the Gorgons."

Several strong hands grasped her at the ankles and wrists, pinning her down, and a bunched up cloth was placed in her mouth. Emma bit down hard on the cloth, her muffled screams a small comforting release for her agony. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes, carving wet tracks down her cheeks and dripping on to the expanse of neck close to her ears.

"It's okay," the gentle voice murmured to her, stroking her hair again. "It's okay, baby. Hold on. Hold on for Killian. He needs you. We all need you."

_Killian?_ Emma thought with confusion. Images and impressions formed through dozens of memories flashed through her mind: dark hair, the smell of rum and the sea, leather and an accent... _Killian_ , her soul sighed in happy recognition. Her pirate.

She floated, adrift on the happy memories of him, and her thoughts gradually became clearer. Surer. More certain. Killian Jones. Captain Hook. The love of her life, whom she had literally followed down into hell. He was here and she _would_ get him back.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled up at the tearstained and joyful faces peering back at her. Her parents. Her son. Her friends.

"Hi," she smiled, her voice cracking with emotion. "I'm still here."

-/-

"You have got to be shitting me," Emma muttered, staring up at the enormous snarl of briar and bramble before her. "Thorns within thorns?" She sighed, supposing she should be grateful that they weren't as big and nasty as the ones that formed the maze. Rolling her neck in a slow circle, Emma squared her shoulders. "Death cannot stop true love," she recited to herself as she unsheathed her sword, "All it can do is delay it for a while."

"Isn't that from The Princess Bride?" her mother wanted to know, as Emma began hacking at the briars. "That's so romantic!"

"Romantic?" Regina echoed. "We're literally standing in hell and you want to wax about romantic movies?"

Ignoring the nervous banter of her companions, Emma sliced her way through the tangle. With each piece of bramble her gloved hands removed, her anticipation grew. They would hold each other again before the day--perhaps even the hour (whatever hour it was)--was over. And she would take him home. Home to Storybrooke. To their own house. They would live their happy ending with each other at last.

The sound of ragged, labored breathing greeted her ears as Emma removed the next piece of briar. Elated, she sheathed her sword and pulled a dagger from its sheath at her waist. She began sawing at the briars with a careful slowness. A hand emerged, strong and weathered, bleeding from the scratch of thorns upon skin, after Emma removed more of the tangle. He groaned, and she tried working a little faster, but carefully, oh so carefully. Severing the snarl of thorns in several places, she peeled back a large swath of the bramble and stared in consternation at the man with brown, curling hair before her.

"That bitch lied to us!" Regina raged. "Captain Jones, my ass!"

Emma felt a large, leaden weight settle in her stomach. "You're not Killian," she whispered. A lump formed in her throat. Tears filled her eyes. "You're not Killian," she repeated helplessly, hating that she sounded like a lost little girl. The lost little girl she hadn't been since meeting her family.

The figure stirred, and the crown of brown, curling hair lifted. His face was handsome. Emma could tell that, even for all the scars that lacerated his face, bleeding and oozing with infection. "Killian?" he croaked, as if he hadn't used his voice in such a very long time. "My brother?

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Emma couldn't keep her eyes off of him while he spoke with David. Her emotions were torn between stubborn disbelief that this was really Killian's long-dead brother instead of an elaborate ruse perpetuated by Hades, and confused longing as she searched Liam's face for traces of Killian. There were vague similarities in the broadness of shoulders, the facial scruff and blue eyes, the strong muscular build of a man used to hard labor.... But mostly, the Jones brothers resembled each other  in the haunted look settled deep within their eyes that spoke of abandonment, loss, and more regret than any normal human being should ever have to shoulder alone.

She knew that look, because it was the same look Killian had called her out on when they climbed the beanstalk. And it made her heart ache with a ferocity that made her wish she didn't even have one at all.

"You should go talk to him," her mother prodded quietly, settling down beside her after she had tended to Liam's wounds. There had only been so much they could do for him. Years of damage from the thorns had left Liam covered in ugly scars from head to toe. The eldest Jones brother took it in stride, however, grateful simply to be free from his painful, centuries-old prison.

Emma glanced over at Liam again. He was still speaking in low tones with her father. No doubt David was explaining a number of things to him. There was so much that had to be disclosed  just to explain their mission into the Underworld for Killian.

"He needs your reassurance as much as you need his," her mother continued. She watched Emma with a mixture of hope and concern. No doubt she was worried for Emma's emotional and mental stability after finding the wrong Jones brother inside the mess of thorns.

She swung her gaze away from Liam and eyed her mother. "The only one who needs reassurance right now is Killian," she insisted quietly. "He doesn't even know I'm here, that I'm coming for him."

"Well--yes," Mary-Margaret agreed, "but Liam--"

"No," Emma interrupted sharply. Her mother's eyes widened with surprise. Guilt washed over her for a brief moment. "I just...I can't," she lied. "Not yet."

"I understand. Maybe when you're ready."

Emma nodded, but that too was a lie. She didn't know if she would ever be ready to face Liam Jones. Sooner or later, the truth would come out and he would know the truth: that Emma Swan had been the one responsible turning Killian dark again and sending him to the Underworld in the first place. And she just couldn't stand to see the resentment and disappointment that would alight in the eyes of Killian's beloved older brother once he knew.  

So, she would simply have to save Killian first. Then the rest could sort itself out later.

-/-

Liam returned Emma's quiet, distant watchfulness in kind. She would feel it frequently, that prickle of awareness just underneath her skin that told her Liam was studying her again. Emma tried not to be annoyed by it as they fought their way through the Underworld. After all, fair was fair; she'd been observing him too. But there was something unnerving about the way Killian's brother watched her, and Emma couldn't help but feel that he was judging her--every word, every movement, every shift in mood or facial expression.

She was an open book to him, just like Killian. But she feared his reading of it, of _her_ , wouldn't be half so kind as his brother's. And if Liam didn't like her...

Emma gripped the pommel of the sword she had sheathed at her hip. She wouldn't let herself think of that just now. The only thing that mattered at all was Killian.

Let Liam think of her what he will.

-/-

He surprised her after they drove off the Melinoë. She was too exhausted, mentally and emotionally, to fend him off. He settled in beside her and simply lent his presence to hers for a while, grounding her with his physical presence until she felt her sanity return. "You wear the ring," he said simply, when he finally spoke.

"What?" She peered at him with exhausted eyes, unable to form the sort of sarcastic answer that might have pushed him away. Perhaps she was simply out of practice, pushing people behind her walls. Or maybe there was simply nothing left of them anymore. Maybe deep down she'd known that, and had tried to avoid Liam because of it.

"The ring," he repeated. "It used to be mine."

"What, you want it back or something?" she sighed, shifting her position so that she could lean more comfortably against the wall.

"No."

"Good, you won't get it."

He chuckled, soft and low. "I can see why he gave it to you."

"Why are you so sure he gave it to me?"

"I saw the way you crushed your hand around it when the Melinoë got in your head. Like it was your lifeline. It means something to you."

"It does," she confirmed.

"I know my brother," he said, standing up. He offered her a hand to help her to her feet, and Emma accepted with only the briefest hesitance. "And if he gave it to you, that meant something to him, too."

-/-

Their brief conversation didn't defuse the odd tension between them. If anything, it only served to make it worse. And while she no longer actively avoided Killian's brother, she didn't seek him out of her own accord, either. But Liam, apparently, had very different ideas.

"You know," he said quietly, falling in to step beside her, "we Jones men can be quite vain."

"So I've noticed."

"My point is, a man might think that his scars make him rather repellent to others."

"If your brother's missing hand doesn't repel me, a few scars aren't going to bother me."

"Killian's missing a what?" Liam halted in his tracks, blinking at her. "Never mind," he shook his head, dispelling her attempt at distracting him from the subject. "So why are you still avoiding me, then," he asked as he caught back up to her, "if the scars don't signify?"

"I never said I was avoiding you."

"You didn't have to. I'd say it's pretty obvious. Now why is that?"

"Look, Liam, I know you're being nice and honorable because that's what you Jones men do, but I just want to find your brother, all right?"

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Why does it matter?" she said in frustration.

"Because Killian wouldn't have given my ring to a woman he didn't intend to marry," Liam told her with an earnest expression, "and if I'm going to have a sister-in-law, I'd like to get off on the right foot with her for the brief time I have with her."

"I can't talk about it," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Can't or won't?" he asked perceptively.

"Both."

-/-

She'd say this for the Jones brothers. They never gave up on anyone they'd taken a fancy to. Emma wasn't sure whether Liam's dedication to earning her friendship meant he'd be more amenable to forgiveness once he learned the truth, or less, but she would have been lying to herself if she didn't admit that his perseverance made her a little happy.

"So riddle me this," Emma began when they stopped to rest, since Liam was lurking nearby anyway. Something Liam had said had been bothering her for...well, what _felt_ like days.

"I beg your pardon?" He looked over at her with a confused expression.

"Sorry. It means I want you to explain something." He nodded at her to go on, and Emma stretched her legs out, crossing them at the ankles. "This unfinished business that everyone in the Underworld has... What happens if someone leaves the Underworld before they finish it?"

"You're referring to Killian?"

"Actually, no. But pretend we are."

"They go back to living as any other normal person would, I suppose. But getting Hades to let anyone leave the Underworld with unfinished business is next to impossible. Many have tried and been tricked or trapped here themselves in the process."

"Eurydice," she  muttered, remembering the woman's cryptic explanation of why she knew the Underworld so well.

"Precisely."

She pondered that for several moments, wishing she could speak to Eurydice again. There had to be a way to bring Liam back with them. She couldn't reunite Killian with his brother only to have him lose Liam all over again. But there simply weren't enough spaces on the boat going back to take Liam with them. Not unless they left someone behind. She was sorely tempted to make that person Rumple, especially after he disappeared on them, but she needed him to return them all to Storybrooke.

But Eurydice's talk of a gateway between life and death indicated that an alternative might be possible. ( _If_ they could get around the not so little problem of Liam having no body to return to.)

"Henry," she said, brushing her hands off as she stood up. "Come over here. I need you to tell us a story."

-/-

Their descent to the ninth level brought their most harrowing encounter yet. It was a relief when they reached the final level, and at first Emma's heart beat faster with anticipation at finding Killian. But when they emerged from the passageway, stepping off the staircase,  a graveyard of bones and half-eaten corpses littered the floor, telling a frightening tale. Emma unsheathed her sword, hoping that whatever had been responsible for the mess hadn't gotten to Killian. "What happened here? I thought people couldn't die in the Underworld," she frowned.

"They don't," Liam agreed as everyone turned to peer at him. "But just because your soul is eaten alive doesn't mean it stays that way. Hades won't let it. But the mind reflects what it believes to be true. Or in this case, the soul."

"So you're saying that all of those--those bones and corpses represent people whose souls have been eaten?" Mary-Margaret asked with disturbed expression. "They turn into corpses because they believe they should? And then they reanimate?"

"Something like that," he agreed soberly. "Think of it as a macabre way for his pets to keep track of meals."

"How do you know all this?" David demanded. "You were trapped in thorns for hundreds of years."

"I wasn't at first." The haunted look in Liam's eyes told them more than they needed to know about _why_ he knew. "Come on. We'll want to get as far as we can before we draw Eurynomos's attention."

But in the end, they never drew its attention; instead, it drew theirs. Or rather, the screams of the person it was attempting to eat did.

Emma shoved Henry behind her and Regina. "Spread out," she ordered. "Robin, you and Mary-Margaret attack from the flanks. Regina and I will combine our magic and attack together, giving you the chance to move in close. Henry, you stay put."

"And me?" Liam asked.

She handed him her sword. "Go with David. Try not to get eaten."

Their combined onslaught confused the enormous demon for a moment. It was just enough time for the blonde woman to scramble to her feet, her glittering ruby encrusted tiara falling out of her disheveled hair to the ground. It hit the floor with a soft echo as she darted away, and the demon snapped out of its daze. With a roar that rattled Emma's teeth, it turned on David with rage.

"Now!" Emma snapped at Regina. Together, the two women channeled their magic into a forceful stream of cold energy. It was a trick she'd learned from Elsa before she had returned to Arendelle;  one that had become very useful in the Underworld.

It hit the demon on the shoulder, knocking it off balance. It stumbled backward, trying to regain its footing, and Liam surged forward, sinking his blade into its side. The demon pulled the blade out, casting it aside as if it were nothing more than a used toothpick, and turned to Liam. It tilted its head as if in recognition, drawing back like a cat that was preparing to pounce.

"Liam, move!" Emma shouted at the same time that a pert female voice yelled, "I don't think so, darling!"

A blast of magic hit the demon from the other side, knocking it squarely into the path of Emma and Regina's combined magic. "Up!" Emma yelled, raising her hands in unison with Regina. Their magic arched upward and hit Eurynomos in between the eyes.

The demon exploded, splattering everything within the chamber, and the only sound that remained was their party's labored breathing.

Regina was the first to recover, glancing down at her gore-soaked clothes. "Hades better pay to have this dry-cleaned," she grumbled.

"Are you all right?" Emma asked Henry, who peered around the stairwell archway.

"Yeah, I'm fine. So who's that?" He nodded his head toward the blonde woman they'd rescued from Eurynomos.

"I don't know, let's find out."

She crossed the chamber, pausing to check on Liam (who seemed none the worse for wear, save for his ruined clothing) before she approached the stranger. "You're responsible for the other magic?" she asked her.

"I am."

"And who are you?"

"Anastasia Tremaine," she answered, "formerly the Red Queen of Wonderland."

"Red Queen?" Emma's mind flashed back to the page Will Scarlet had ripped out of a stolen library book, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. It had been a picture of a queen dressed in red from head to foot. "Does the name Will Scarlet mean anything to you?"

The answering tremble of her lower lip told Emma everything she needed to know.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to upset you. I'm Emma. Emma Swan."

"Emma Swan?" she sniffed, dabbing at her face with a lace handkerchief that had frankly seen better days.  Her eyes lit with recognition. "I know that name."

"What? How?"

"He keeps moaning it at all hours of the day and night."

"Who?" Emma said breathlessly, hope kindling in her anew. "Who does?"

"Why the prisoner that Cerberus guards, of course!"

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Fixed a couple of minor mistakes and added a couple of lines here and there to clarify a few things.

They let Anastasia join their party. There wasn't much choice, really, if she could lead them to Killian. Emma didn't quite know what to make of her, but if Anastasia could reunite her with Killian, she'd owe her a debt of gratitude that, quite frankly, she might never really be able to repay. On the other hand, they also knew next to nothing about her, save that she was somehow involved with Will. Emma wasn't entirely certain she could be trusted (but then, she still didn't entirely trust Will Scarlet, either). Ana seemed to know the Underworld a little too well, by her detailed descriptions of where Killian was being held and what sort of obstacles they could expect to face during their rescue attempt. Even Liam, who had been in the Underworld for literal centuries, reacted with surprise and skepticism at some of the information to which Ana seemed privy.

Emma met Liam's blue-grey gaze across the cavern. A moment of brief, but mutual understanding passed between them, reminding her painfully of the even closer connection she shared with Killian. She couldn't afford not to take a chance and trust Ana. But that didn't mean that she had to be stupid about it.

But it was Regina who, having taken Ana's measure, questioned her first. "So what do you get out of this?" she demanded bluntly.

"Excuse me?" the blonde queen said indignantly.

"Oh, come on, dear," Regina said with a predatory smile, "you and I both know you're after something. That little magical display back there all but announced that you're a former pupil of my mother, Cora. And we both know there were only two types of people that ever captured my mother's notice: those she could manipulate and use and then throw away, and those who had magical potential that she could shape and mold to her own twisted ends. And if you learned the magic from her, you learned the manipulation, too."

Ana's expression shifted from insulted to quietly furious. "I'm nothing like _your mother!_ " she spat, taking a step toward Regina.

David caught her by the arm, restraining her. "Ladies, save the magic duel at dawn for _after_ we get back to Storybook."

"Regina does raise some interesting questions," Mary-Margaret observed, stepping forward to study Ana. "What's Killian's life to you? Why are you being so helpful?"

"Why does everybody always think I have some ulterior motive?" Ana protested. "I may have screwed up my life once, but I've changed! Can't I just help someone out of the goodness of my own heart?"

"Answer the questions," Emma commanded flatly.

Ana sighed, her expression becoming stony and detached. "His life is nothing to me, really. I didn't know who any of you even were until Emma introduced herself, but if you want to free what's-his-name--"

"Killian," Emma supplied.

"--I'll do everything in my power to help, because it would _really_ piss off Hades, and that would make my day." She paused, looking thoughtful. "Afterlife?" she muttered. "Eternity?"

"And that's it?" Regina said skeptically.

"Well...I'd appreciate if you could take back a message to my Will, of course," Ana admitted with a pained but hopeful smile, "but it's not a condition of my service to you. I'll do it purely to antagonize Hades."

"What exactly is the nature of your quarrel with him?" Liam interjected. "If you don't mind my asking. Most people in the Underworld tend to keep their heads down and try not to attract his notice. It's, ah, rather unusual to meet someone going out of her way to upset him."

"Yes, well, I'm not most people, darling," she replied blandly. "This is my third trip to the Underworld, and if Hades is to have his way," she said with a disgusted curl of her lip, "it's to be permanent this time."

" _Third_?" Mary-Margaret blinked in surprise. "How...?" She trailed off, apparently too stunned to even formulate the proper questions.

"Oh, it's a complicated story, darling, involving the sorcerer Jafar, genies, breaking the laws of magic, and the Well of Wonders, but I won't bore you with the details. I'm here _this time_ because Hades brought me back directly."

"What would motivate him to do that?" Robin wondered.

"Because he wants a queen," Ana explained with a look of revulsion, "and that mad idiot is under the delusion that it's going to be me!"

-/-

"What do you think?" Liam asked quietly, while the others argued about what to do with the information Ana had just dropped into their laps. "Is she on the level?"

"Yes."

"You sound very certain."

She inhaled, wondering how much to tell him. "I am," she answered, opting for the simple truth. "I have this ability to tell when people are lying. Your brother tried lying to me when we first met, and I called him on it. Ana isn't lying. She might still be hiding things from us, but she isn't lying."

He ran a hand through his curly hair, seeming to come to a decision. "All right."

"You believe me?" she blinked.

"Of course. My brother trusts you. That's good enough for me. I made the mistake of doubting his judgment once, and I'm not likely to do it again."

Tears filled her eyes. "You shouldn't," she whispered harshly, finding it difficult to speak around the lump in her throat.

"Shouldn't what?" he asked in consternation. "Trust you?"

She nodded, unable to speak.

He eyed her with compassion. "Emma," he said gently, "you are _not_ responsible for my brother's death _or_ his return to the darkness. But you _are_ the reason he turned back to the light just before he died." She stared at him in surprise, and he smiled softly. "Your mother told me."

"And you knew all this time?" she sniffed. "I feel like an idiot. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I hoped you'd open up to me about it of your own accord." He shrugged. "I meant what I said, Emma. I'd like to have a good relationship with my intended sister-in-law in the little time that I can."

She smiled crookedly. "I think I'd like that, too."

But in the privacy of her own thoughts, Emma promised herself  that it would not be for only a little time. She would find a way to bring him back, too. And now she knew just the person to ask.

-/-

"You want to what?" Ana gaped at her. "Darling, you know that won't be easy, right?"

"You've done it before, haven't you?" Emma pressed when they stopped to rest. "Twice."

"Well, yes, but that was with help from the other side. And I had a body to return to."

"But it _is_ possible? You know of a way?"

"Yes," she said reluctantly, "but you won't like the fine print."

"Is this the part where you giggle and tell me all magic comes with a price?"

"No," she said, issuing Emma a strange look, "but you might not get the result you're looking for. You'd best be certain this is what you want."

"I am."

"Then far be it from me to deter you," she said with something akin to respect kindling in her eyes, "but we'll need to distract Hades. So when we rescue your Killian, this is what we'll do..."

-/-

Emma stared at the heavy doors that led to the dungeons where Hades kept his highest security prisoners. Cerberus lurked somewhere beyond them, ready to tear apart anyone who dared defy his master by freeing hostages. She glanced at Liam, to her left, who looked lost within thought, his expression a mixture of regret, determination, and hope. "Are you sure we can't just play some music and lull him to sleep?" she asked, swinging her gaze to Ana, who stood on her right.

"What?" the blonde queen stared at her. "Wherever did you get a ridiculous idea like that?"

"Never mind," she sighed, as Mary-Margaret and David sniggered behind her. Of course _they_ got the reference. They'd been the ones borrowing her books and peppering her with questions over breakfast or while she brushed her teeth at night, back when they'd shared the apartment together. An apartment that Emma hoped she would soon move her books and other belongings out of, once they brought Killian back to Storybrooke.

"Does everyone remember the plan?" Ana asked, sweeping her gaze over their little group. Several decisive murmurs of agreement greeted her question. "Good."

Emma felt a strong, masculine hand reach for hers, giving it a brief squeeze just before Ana unsealed the magic on the doors. She tossed Liam a wan smile in reply, noting his white-knuckled grip on the sword she'd loaned him. The doors opened with a drawn out groan, revealing a swath of pitch-black darkness. She stared at it in confusion, unsettled by the utter stillness that lay beyond the doorway, but determined to find Killian without further delay. She shifted her weight, taking a step forward, but Ana stayed her with one hand.

"Not just yet, darling," she murmured softly. She stared into the darkness ahead of them with a hard, intent gaze, as if she were waiting for something. "Give it a moment..."

An enormous black beast leaped out at them, sailing over their heads with a whoosh of air. It landed behind their group, narrowly missing Robin, its jaws snapping eagerly at Henry. Emma screamed for her son, her magic reacting instinctively as it formed a shield around him. Somewhere to her left, Emma heard Regina attack with a loud sneer, "Nobody attacks _my_ son!"

The burst of magic blinded her momentarily, and Emma felt Liam steady her as she tried to regain her bearings. The battle progressed around her, magic sizzling and arrows flying, as she recovered, Liam's quiet, sturdy presence offering a focus for her amidst the chaos. "I'm okay," she assured him after a moment, as she gathered her magic into her and focused her will. "Come on, they need our help."

The rest of the battle passed in a blur of blood, sweat, and confusion. Cerberus' three heads gave the beast a distinct advantage in that it was damned near impossible to approach at close range, or to form any sneak attack, but Ana's advice to divide into smaller groups (forgotten as it might have been at the onset of Cerberus' attack) soon enabled them to disarm the beast. After a few well-aimed arrows to its eyes from Mary-Margaret and Robin, Emma struck with her own magic while Liam and David moved in to hamstring Cerberus. She stroked the dog's mind with her magic, wrapping notions of warmth and comfort around it around like a pillow, smothering its aggression and doubt as she lulled it into a deep, deep slumber.

It collapsed with a loud thud, forming an enormous, steadily breathing mountain of black fur between the party members.

"Is it...sleeping?" Ana asked after a moment of stunned silence.

"Yeah. I mean, I figured just because music wouldn't work to put it to sleep doesn't mean my magic wouldn't."

"Fascinating," Mary-Margaret said, craning her neck to examine Cerberus as he slumbered. David inched her away with a wince, unwilling to chance waking the dog.

"Well, I have to hand it to you darling, that was magnificent," the blonde queen approved.

"Yes, very creative," Regina drawled, rounding Cerberus' slumbering form with Robin and Henry in tow, "now let's go find the pirate and get out of here before this _thing_ wakes up again."

-/-

“You’d think with all his pretensions Hades could afford a few lights in here,” Regina snarked as they walked down the darkened passageways of the dungeon. Light flared behind Emma, illumining the darkness. She glanced over her shoulder to see that Regina had created an orb to brighten their path ahead of them. “There,” Regina smiled. “Much better.”

 Ana eyed the sphere with disdain and swept her arms upward in a gesture that managed to be both dramatic and careless at the same time. Torches flared to life, lining the walls of a large hallway. "No point in wasting the extra energy if you don’t need to,” she said by way of explanation as Regina glared at her. “Well," she said, dropping her hands, as if nothing had happened, "let's go."

"Subtle," Regina sneered.

"Yes, well, that _is_ the point, isn't it?" she reminded the brunette queen.

Emma ignored their bickering, inhaling with a nervous shudder as she took her first step down the twisted and curving hallway. This was it; this at last was the path that would lead her back to her love and reunite them. Jittery with anticipation, her steps bounced a little more as she rounded the bend and came to the first block of prisoner cells, eager to find Killian. She stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening at the sight before her. "What the hell?" she breathed in disbelief.

Hades leaned against the wall with a wide smirk on his face, watching with a clear and twisted delight as Emma took in the beaten and bloody forms of Killian Jones that lay motionless, watching her, in each of the cells. "Oh come now," he chided, "what's the value of True Love without a small test?"

"Is this your idea of a sick joke?" Mary-Margaret snapped, stepping forward to enfold Emma in a comforting hug.

"Hmm," Hades said with a thoughtful look. "I was thinking more like entertainment, but who says they have to be mutually exclusive, right?"

"What kind of test?" Emma found herself saying in a rough, cracking voice that she barely recognized as her own.

"Find him," he directed. "Find the real Killian Jones without any help from your friends, here." Emma tilted her head, waiting for the catch. "Oh, and you can't communicate to them with any words,  gestures, or touches. That means no questions, no declarations of love, no hand signals, no kissing or caresses...You get the idea."

There it was.

"All right," she said, "say I agree to your little test. Then what? What happens if I find him?"

"I let him go."

"From his cell or from the Underworld?"

"Clever girl," Hades approved with an ugly smirk. "From his cell. Consider it a willingness to negotiate further on my part, if you manage it."

Considering his preliminary offer for several moments, Emma nodded. She couldn't do anything about getting Killian out of the Underworld if she couldn't release him from his cell. And Ana had warned her that freeing Killian wouldn't be as simple and straightforward as breaking a lock on the cell and ushering him out. If Hades wanted to play games, Emma would indulge him--to a point.

"Okay," she agreed.  "I'll do it."

Hades stepped away from the wall, gesturing toward the block of cells. "Then let the test begin," he invited.

Pursing her lips together, Emma squatted in front of the cell closest to her and examined the Killian in front of her. He lay with his cheek against the floor, blood dried to his cheeks and matted in his dark hair. One eye was swollen shut, the other gazing back at her without a word as Emma's eyes roved over him. She matched his gaze, letting herself absorb the quiet understanding that she found in them. Standing, she moved to the next cell, her strength renewed.

The Killian in the next cell shared identical injuries, but seemed more troubled and less resigned to his fate than the previous one. "Go," he hissed, with a hard look on his face. "Leave this place." Emma tilted her head, noting the way that he curled in on himself, avoiding her gaze as he spoke. "Go, Swan. Save yourself."

Exhaling, Emma moved to the next cell and peered inside. This Killian huddled in a far corner of the cell, leaning his head back against the wall. Hearing her pause outside his cell, he lowered his head and looked at her. The weariness and sheer absence of hope that she found in his eyes tore at her heart. Swallowing around a lump in her throat, Emma fought against the tears that formed as she witnessed the brokenness in him. Swiping at one eye to brush away a tear, she gasped in surprise when she saw the corners of his mouth lift in a soft, reassuring smile. It disappeared between one blink and the next, like quicksilver, but she soaked in its brief warmth like a thirsty sponge. Her spirits buoyed, she moved across the hall toward the other three cells.

This Killian startled the wits out of her; he was plastered up against the bars, watching Hades with thinly disguised anger. "Leave her alone," he ordered. "Let us acquit ourselves like gentleman," he challenged, "and settle this quarrel ourselves, one-on-one. No trickery."

Hades snorted in amusement, but ignored otherwise ignored this challenge.

Emma moved to the middle cell. This Killian leaned against one wall, his arms crossed against his chest. He straightened to his full height as she approached, and moved closer to speak with her. "Emma," he breathed, "I knew you would come." His blue eyes shone with an abundance of love and hope that seemed all the brighter in contrast to his injuries. "I never gave up on you, _not once_."

Smiling in acknowledgment, Emma forced herself to move to the final cell. This Killian seemed wary, and approached with caution, his eyes roving side to side. "Listen," he whispered almost inaudibly, "I know a way to indispose Hades and enable you to get out of here with your son, but you have to be quick about it..." He rattled off a set of instructions that she absorbed with patience before moving to the back of his cell again.

"Well," Hades said with all the flair of a game show host as Emma moved away from the final cell, "it's time for the million dollar question: which one is the _real_ Killian Jones? Take your time to finalize your answer, but remember--no help from the audience!"

She turned slowly, peering at the different Killians in turn as she considered them. Remembering how they had each reacted or made her feel, she turned to Hades and took a deep breath before answering. "All of them," she said in a clear voice that echoed in the cell block. "All of them are the real Killian Jones. Understanding, self-sacrifice, warmth, courage, loyalty, intelligence--they are all part of the man I love."

"And we have a winner!" Hades crowed with a clap of his hands. The cell doors opened, and all six of the Killians stepped out, merging back into one man before Emma could even blink.

"Killian!" She stepped toward him hesitantly, unable to believe that he was finally within arm's reach.

He lurched forward, half-embracing, half-falling into her arms. His words were garbled, tumbling out of him with urgency as he buried his nose into the crook of her neck. She didn't understand any of it, not really. But could feel what he meant in the way that he touched her, crushing her in his arms with gratitude and relief, and caressing her with wonder in the touch of his fingertips across her back. “It’s me,” she reassured him, her voice halfway between a sob and a laugh. “It’s really me. I’m here, Killian. I’m here.”

His arms tightened around her in response, and Emma stroked his hair. “There’s someone else who wants to see you, too,” she whispered.

“David?” he croaked.

She laughed. She couldn’t help it. “Yeah, he’s here, too. I meant your brother.” She released him and stepped aside, watching as Killian and Liam set eyes on each other for the first time in over three centuries.

Killian stared at his brother, taking one hesitant step forward before he stopped in his tracks again. “Liam?”

“Aye.” Liam closed the distance between them in two long strides, pulling Killian into a hug. “It’s been too long, little brother,” he murmured, as he gently clapped Killian on the back.

“As cloyingly sweet as this reunion is,” Hades interrupted, drawing their attention back to his presence, “I believe we have a deal to make, Miss Swan.”

“Leave her alone,” Killian growled. “She’ll make no deals with you.”

“No, Killian,” Emma said, placing her hand on the crook of his arm, “he’s right. I freed you. Now it’s time to negotiate.” She gave him a significant look, trying to communicate to him that she had a plan. That everything was under control.

She walked over to the Lord of the Underworld, trying to school her expression into one of confidence, even boredom—as if she had negotiated for the life of someone before. “So let’s negotiate,” she agreed. “I want Killian to return with me and the rest of my group back to life in Storybrooke.”

“Out of the question,” he refused. “You have more members in your party than you arrived with, and that simply cannot be. Seven of you arrived, and seven of you can leave. No more, and no less.”

“But that would mean that we have to leave one of our party members behind. That’s not going to happen.”

“Well, it seems to me that one of your original members is, ah, shall we say…conspicuously absent? I tell you what, Miss Swan. I will let you take your pirate back home, but you must leave Rumplestiltskin and Her Majesty Tremaine here. Your pirate takes the place of Rumple on the boat back; seven came in and seven still leave.”

“Leave the Dark One with all the powers of every Dark One before him under your control?” she snorted. “Not happening. I may despise him; I may think he’s the most cowardly, duplicitous little weasel I’ve ever known—” Killian stirred beside her, his jaw clenched in silent agreement, “—but I’m not leaving you a convenient means to consolidate and expand your power, making it easy to renege on whatever agreement we make at a later date.”

She glanced at Ana, who stood off to one side, watching with her arms crossed. Her expression was stony, even stubborn, as she stared with ill-disguised contempt at Hades. “As for Ana, that’s also out of the question. I don’t know why you want to so badly to make her your Queen and keep her here, but my instinct is to tell you to go to hell.” She shrugged one shoulder. “But since we’re already here, I suppose I’ll just have to settle for a firm ‘no.’”

“Well then I do believe we’re at a stalemate.” He turned his attention to Ana, studying her sour expression for a moment before speaking. “And you, my dearest, are you ready to see things my way and renegotiate?”

“Perhaps,” she answered. She stepped closer to Hades, her expression changing to something that was very calculating and almost flirtatious at the same time. “But of course, that would depend on the deal you strike with Emma, here.”

Hades’ eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You are forgetting, Ana, that we know each other far too well by now. Using yourself as leverage to save your friends will not work.”

“Won’t it?”

“No.”

“Then what a pity. It seems that we also are at an impasse.”

“So the rest of us are going to be stuck down here because you two can’t play Let’s Make a Deal?” Regina complained with a roll of her eyes. “Step aside,” she ordered, “and let the grownups do the work.”

“I don’t think so, darling,” Ana disagreed. “You’re the last person I trust to bargain on my behalf.” She turned to Hades. “I have a better offer: I stay here in the Underworld for six months of the year and function as your queen. The souls of all the Wonderland people are directed to your domain, and you pass judgment on them as you see fit in my absence. But if I am present, I get equal say their fate.”

“And the other six months of the year?”

“You let me spend it with Will, ruling our kingdom in Wonderland.”

“As tempting as that offer is, it still won’t do,” Hades shook his head. “Seven souls arrived and seven souls must leave. Those are the rules.”

“You are lord and ruler here,” Ana pointed out. “Make an exception.”

“I can’t do that. Then everyone will think they deserve an exception. It isn’t worth spending the next millennia stamping out rebellions just to give you folks a special exemption.”

“Wait, back it up, Emma interjected, “what happens to the souls of Wonderland-ers now? Where are they supposed to be going?”

“Originally, they were supposed to go to Helheim,” Ana said with a pointed look at Hades, “but that hasn’t been the case for a very long time, now has it, Hades?”

“Take it up with Cora, if you desire,” he shrugged. “She’s around here somewhere.”

“Wait, so Cora made some kind of deal and sold their souls out? How is that even possible?”

“Many things are possible in Wonderland,” Ana stated. “Rulers have quite a bit more power at their disposal.”

“Even over the eternal fate of their people? I’d say so,” Regina comment with a sarcastic arch of her brow. “Funny how mother never told me that.”

“And Cora didn’t _trade_ it away,” Ana continued, tossing a glare at Regina for her interruption, “she destroyed it.”

“What do you mean she destroyed it?” Emma cut in again.

“I mean that we rulers of Wonderland no longer have that power at our disposal because Cora killed the caretaker of Helheim and her domain with it. It doesn’t exist anymore. There’s no place for the people of Wonderland to go. She consigned them all to eternal wandering with no hope of rest or resolution.”                                                     

“So that’s why you want Ana for your queen,” Emma accused Hades. “You want to claim Wonderland’s lost souls. And marriage to Ana, a former ruler of Wonderland, would give you legitimacy for your claim.”

“Well, don’t tell me you thought it was a love match!” Hades protested with an offended look.

“We can’t stand one another,” Ana confirmed. “But all of this is, shall we say, quite pointless?” She looked pointedly at Hades. “Unless of course you’re willing to rethink that exemption.”

“Not a chance.”

“What if…” Emma began slowly, “what if I offered you another deal?”

“That would depend on the deal,” Hades answered. “I’m listening.”

“Rumple goes back. That’s still non-negotiable. And the others go back, too, except for me.”

“Emma!” her mother gasped.

“Ana can take my place on the boat. She gets to go back to Will and Wonderland and rule there with him full time. You draw up a contract with her arranging the transfer of Wonderland’s souls to the Underworld, and she gets to live in peace until she dies a natural death.”

“And what about after?” Ana demanded, glaring at Hades. “I don’t trust him.”

“After you die a natural, normal death,” Emma emphasized again, “you come to the Underworld and function as queen and co-ruler of the Underworld. No marriage. It’s strictly a business partnership. But you get an equal say in everyone’s fate after you die, not just the Wonderland people. Both of you gain something by this arrangement.”

“And what of my Will?” she asked with a conflicted expression. “What happens to him after he dies?”

“Will gets to choose for himself,” Hades said. “Both of us recuse ourselves from his particular judgment, because neither of us can be objective. He can either move on or stay with you indefinitely. So long as he stays out of our business affairs, that is. If he opts to stay and he interferes, I send him on. No second chances.”

 “Agreed,” Ana replied. “We draw up a contract before I leave, and put it in Regina’s care. She hates both of us. If either of us reneges on the terms, the contract becomes null and void and everything reverts back to its original owner or status at Regina’s enforcement. Do we have a deal?”

“Not so fast,” Emma interrupted. “All of this is contingent on me giving up my place in the boat for Ana. And I haven’t set my own terms for this arrangement.” She smiled slyly and said in her best imitation of Hades, “What? You didn’t think you were going to get something for nothing, did you?”

“What is it you want?” Hades asked with narrowed eyes.

“An alternate route out of the Underworld for me and one companion.”

“You’ve talked to Eurydice I see. I haven’t made such an arrangement in hundreds of years,” he mused to himself. “All right, Miss Swan, since I’m feeling generous due to your proposal of alliance between Ana and myself, I will give you and _one companion_ of your choice the chance to climb your way out of the Underworld. But if you mess it up as Orpheus did, don’t come looking to me to renegotiate. This is a one-time deal. I won’t offer it again, so don’t get any ideas about coming back for anyone else like the brother, there. If you look back even once, your pirate is gone to you forever.”

“Understood. But I want your assurances that you won’t come after any of us later. Not my parents, not my son, not anyone standing before you right now. If you do, the arrangement I’ve proposed between you and Ana is dissolved. That goes in the contract too.”

Hades studied her for several long minutes, as if trying to find a loophole somewhere. “Done,” he finally agreed. “You do drive a hard bargain, Miss Swan. I won’t forget that when it’s your turn to face judgment.”

“No,” she agreed, “or the fact that I made any of this possible.”

-/-

“Are you sure you still want to do this?” Ana murmured as they stood near the boat that would lead the other members of the party out of the Underworld without Emma.

“Yes. I’m certain.”

“Then I wish you the best of luck, darling. I’ve given them all the instructions they need. Wait to merge them until Hades is preoccupied with one of his judgments, then start making your way out of the Underworld. But be prepared for him to throw every distraction he’s got at you. He doesn’t like to lose.”

“I’m prepared,” she whispered, hoping that it was true.

“I wish you the best of luck, darling,” Ana said, sweeping her into a quick hug. “And I’ll see you again up above, one way or another.”

“You and Regina keep Rumple in line on the way back,” Emma warned her. “Don’t let him try anything.”

“We’ve got it well in hand,” Ana assured her, flicking a glance toward the Dark One. “Especially now that I’ve learned from Hades that his wife is expecting. He’ll not chance a single thing going wrong on the way back if it means ensuring that he returns to both of them.”

“I hope you’re right,” Emma said. “Good luck. And Ana?” The blonde turned toward her questioningly. “Thank you.”

“No need, darling. Just be glad he fell for it.”

-/-

The merging of Liam’s soul into Killian’s went so well that Emma worried the rest of her plan was doomed to go down in miserable failure. But Hades seemed to sense nothing amiss, and he paid no attention to Emma as she worked her way back up through the Underworld. But then, he didn’t really need to. Traveling back through the Underworld with only one companion whom she couldn’t even look at was quite a different experience than traveling with a group. It put her at a major disadvantage in terms of any obstacle they might encounter, and Emma found herself having to rely heavily on stealth and trickery to get them past the dangerous creatures roaming through the Underworld.

But at last emerged on the surface of the Underworld, which so resembled Emma’s home of Storybrooke, Maine, and she knew the real test was about to begin. Hades had been quiet for far too long—presumably expecting her to screw up long before, during an encounter with one of his pets below. He wasn’t about to let her leave so easily. Not when she was so close to victory.

It began when they passed the pawn shop. A horrible gasping, the sound of someone struggling to breathe, had Emma starting to turn her head around before she even realized it. It was only the sight of a dark-haired figure that reminded her of Eurydice that snapped her out of it in time _. He doesn’t even need to breathe_ , she reminded herself, clenching her jaw together as she stared ahead with renewed determination. _Not yet_. But how like Hades to attempt to trick her like that, with something so simple and instinctual.

She started talking, trying to distract herself from the horrible rasping sounds behind her. Emma recounted her adventure in the Enchanted Forest to them, her first meeting with Killian and the climbing of the beanstalk that started them out on this path together. She spoke of his heroism and bravery in Neverland and how Killian had crossed realms to reunite Emma with her family. And how, even after being steeped in more darkness than any other Dark One before him, Killian Jones still found it in himself to turn away from it and sacrifice himself for Emma and everyone else he loved.

And when his steps began to falter behind her, and Killian began to cry out in agony, like someone was squeezing his heart in half, Emma told them the story of how she had met Liam. How she had been so certain that it was Killian in the mess of thorns. Her surprise at finding the elder Jones inside, and how she had been reluctant to let him inside of what little remained of her walls. Liam’s persistence in establishing a relationship between them for whatever short time they had together. And how, in that short time, she had come to love him as one of her own family.

It was when she heard Killian stumble and fall behind her that Emma almost ruined it for all of them again. It cut her soul not to look. With tears streaming down her face, she pressed onward, reminding herself that there were two people at stake; two people to lose if she faltered. Two, not one. And she would never forgive herself if she lost Killian and Liam forever.

Emma’s own steps became heavier, slower, as she neared the gateway that would lead her back into life in Storybrooke. It was the hardest thing she had ever done, ignoring Killian’s growls and grunts of frustration, his pants of effort as she heard his fingernails scrabbling in the dirt behind her. It was frightening, knowing that with every step she took, and every inch he crawled and dragged himself forward, the gap between them was growing wider and wider—and with it, the temptation oh so stronger to turn around and check that he wasn’t falling behind. That she wouldn’t lose him forever.

And then she was at the glowing portal, and she couldn’t delay it; there was no choice but to go through. Shaking with the effort to keep her eyes pointed straight in front of her, sweat and tears streaming down her face in equal measure, Emma set one trembling foot through the gateway and stepped through.

She tumbled back into Storybrooke and staggered blindly for a few steps before she fell to the ground, crushing her eyes closed. She wept, the sobs wracking her entire body as she released all the fear and tension and worry of what she had just done. She’d made it back to Storybrooke without looking back, but just barely. What if it hadn’t been enough? What if she’d stepped too far ahead and Killian and his brother were lost to her forever? Why hadn’t she thought to ask Hades about that?

Strong arms encircled her, and the familiar scent of leather and rum and salt wafted into her nostrils. “It’s over, love,” Killian’s voice rasped. “We’re in one piece.”

Emma’s eyes flew open and she gazed upon the face of her beloved in the flesh once again. With a cry that was halfway between a sob and a laugh, she hugged him fiercely, and then they became a tangle of lips and hands and pressed bodies as Emma tried to reassure herself that it wasn’t some illusion.

“Easy, love,” Killian laughed, pulling away after the long and heated moment. “Liam’s still in here with me, and he’s very much aware of what’s happening.”

“Oh shit,” Emma realized. “Then we can’t—”

“Afraid not, love,” he said, scratching at one ear awkwardly, “at least not yet.”

“We’ll figure something out,” she promised. “We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

“Aye,” he agreed. “I have every faith in you, love. I always have.”

-/-

Things didn’t quite work out as well as either Killian or Emma had envisioned, however. It wasn’t as if there were spare bodies just lying around Storybrooke these days. And of course now that they could use the distraction of a villain to get them through this hitch in their quest to restore Liam to his own body, things were calmer than ever in Storybrooke…which made it harder and harder for Emma and Killian to deny themselves each other’s company. Regina did her best, using every spare moment of her time to help them research for possible solutions to their dilemma. Emma even managed to con _Rumple_ into lending his aide, once she casually let it drop in Belle’s presence what they were attempting to do.

But weeks went by to no avail, and then the weeks became months, and the three of them got a little more used to their strange arrangement with each passing day. The quick touches and little stolen kisses that had been so awkward at first became longer and more natural, and Liam was less apt to protest about them to Killian. Emma grew used to addressing both of them, carrying on different conversations with the brothers with Killian acting as the voice bridging the relationship between all three of them. And when Killian finally moved in with her, and they settled on the sofa to watch Netflix in the evenings, things were more comfortable between the three of them than she ever could have imagined when Killian slung his arm over her shoulder and drew her close.

And then somewhere along the way, when a year of their strange threesome had come and gone, Emma realized one day that it almost didn’t matter to her if Liam ever got his body back. Because she had grown to love them both, the Jones brothers. But she couldn’t keep them both. She knew that as surely as she knew her own name. Killian couldn’t live like this forever, and she could never ask him to. She would have to choose.

So she met Ariel at the docks one spring morning and quietly asked her to search the seas around Neverland to see if there was a body to recover that might have been preserved by its magic. It was a long shot, but she had to take it. Their futures hinged on it.

And then Emma bided her time, keeping the search to herself, patient in the knowledge that if there was anything to be found, Ariel would bring it back. And if there wasn’t, they would simply have to take other measures.

When spring bled into summer and the days became hotter, she finally got word from Eric about Ariel’s return. Ariel had recovered Liam’s body, and it was little worse for wear than it had been when he’d died centuries ago. They transported the body to Regina quietly, not wanting to alert the Jones brothers until they could freshen it up and ensure that Liam wouldn’t die all over again once they placed his soul back in it. That took weeks in itself, and it was all Emma could do not to spill the secret to the brothers. She took to working extra shifts at the station just to avoid them and their probing questions, sensing as they always did, that something was going on with her.

So it was on a cool, autumn evening that there was a knock on her door, and Emma found Regina on her front steps. “Bring them,” was all she said.

Emma brought them back to Regina’s house. It was strange, seeing Liam’s lifeless corpse laid out on the couch, looking as if he might wake at any moment. Stranger still was the thought that she would finally see Liam in the flesh, as a separate person. But this was best for all of them, and Emma would never let either of them down by forcing them to continue living on as they had been.

“Liam,” she whispered, taking a step forward, after he sat up with a gasp, touching his hair, chest, and elbows to ascertain that his body was indeed real. “Welcome back…to yourself.”

The walk back from Regina’s was awkward. The three of them had grown so used to being an inseparable unit that it seemed wrong to her, somehow, for them to be apart. And yet the cold hard reality of it was that they were individuals. They always had been. They’d only just let themselves forget that for a little while.

“You two go on home,” Liam said gruffly, when they passed the docks. “I’ll be on in a little while.”

“Are you sure?” Killian asked his brother with a worried look on his face. “Don’t you think we should talk about any of this?”

“Go home,” Liam repeated with a hard growl in his voice. Then, seeming to feel bad about snapping at his brother, he said more gently, “I’ll be fine. I just…I need some time alone, that’s all. ”

“Come on,” Emma whispered, leading Killian toward the house. “He needs time to adjust. We all do.”

“There’s something I need to know,” Killian said, after they walked for a while, “Do you love him?" he asked, avoiding her gaze as he scratched the back of his neck in that nervous gesture that she found so endearing.

"Of course I do. He's basically family."

"That's not what I meant."

Emma hesitated for a moment, scared of what might happen if she answered the question. Scared that it might change everything. Scared that she would lose all that she had gained over the last few years. Scared that she would lose Killian, her True Love—the man she had gone to hell and back for.

 "Yes," she whispered, unable to utter a lie to him, "but he isn't you, Killian.” She turned toward him, pleading silently for him to believe, to understand. “He never has been," she insisted, pressing her lips, feather-light, against his own, "and he never will be _._ I chose you. I will always choose you. _You're_ the one I can't live without. "

"And you'll never have to," he promised, kissing her with a bashfulness, an uncertainty that she never would have suspected him capable of, until suddenly it turned very earnest and eager and heated, "not ever again," he breathed, sweeping her into his arms as they broke apart. “I love you, Emma Swan.”

“And I love you,” she whispered, meaning it with every fiber of her being when he laid her on their bed. “I love you forever and always, Killian Jones.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, so that was a really long conclusion to this fic, but as I’m sure you’ll agree, a lot happened and it sort of had to be. But I’ve had this bittersweet, perhaps mildly controversial ending in mind since the inception of this fic, and I wanted to keep to that plan. That said, if bittersweet isn’t your thing, there will be one more part, an epilogue for those who wish to read it, to tie things up a little more for everyone, especially poor Liam. I just can’t leave him like he was at the end of this chapter! It just isn’t in me to leave my baby suffering like that. So be on the lookout for a happier, fluffy epilogue for those of you who, like me are a sucker for a super-happy ending. I hope you enjoyed this!
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  


	4. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, so first half of this epilogue involves some angst, because that's what my muse decided was appropriate and realistic, but I think the second half more than makes up for it. It's fluffy enough to make your teeth rot! Hope you enjoy! And thanks for reading!

 

There was never a formal engagement—not in the manner either Emma or her parents would have anticipated. Emma and Killian just sort of fell into it, the mutual understanding that they would marry before the season was out. Plans for the immediate future simply flowed along a natural current of conversation, metamorphosing into plans of a marriage and a family, and before Emma knew it they were picking out wedding bands at the jeweler's shop and inviting friends to join them in several weeks for a combined wedding reception and Thanksgiving feast.

Liam was quietly supportive, but understandably distant during the weeks of wedding preparation. The transition in the relationship between the three of them had been the hardest on him. They'd tried to work it out at first, to manage living together as comfortably as they had been during the year prior to his bodily restoration, but the spell had simply been broken, in every sense of the word. Liam no longer shared a body with his brother, dependent on him for survival, nor did he share the intimate relationship with Emma that both of them had grown used to, after having him in close quarters with Killian for more than a year. Liam Jones no longer seemed to know just how he fit into their separate lives now. So it was almost a relief when, one week (and several awkward and charged incidents) after being returned to his body, Liam announced he was moving into a room at Granny's until he could figure out the path his new life would take.

“I feel bad for him,” Emma sighed, climbing into the Bug after they left Liam settling into his new room at Granny's.

“As do I,” Killian admitted quietly, “but it's as you said: he needs some time.”

“Yeah. I know. It's just...he has a lot to adjust to,” she worried.

For it wasn't simply that he was alive again after being dead; or even that he had his own body back after sharing one with his brother for over a year. It was also the completely new time period and realm with all of its differences in technology, culture, and perceptions that were foreign to Liam; it was the knowledge that he was technically no longer the older brother in his sibling relationship; the uncomfortable awareness that he cared for his own brother's intended wife; a perhaps bruised ego and heaping mound of guilt over the fact that Emma had chosen Killian over him, Liam Jones, who from all Killian's accounts, was not used to being overshadowed or coming in second place.

“Aye,” he admitted soberly. “That he does. But thanks to you, we've plenty of time to get our bearings, love” Killian reassured her, reaching over to lace his fingers through her own. “We'll all sort it out.”

-/-

But they didn't, not really. And while it was certainly more comfortable making love to Killian without the guilt of knowing that Liam lay alone in the next room, his absence created a different sort of guilt altogether. As Ana had predicted, there were consequences to Emma's decision to bring back Liam that none of them had been able to predict. And one of them was that Liam Jones was in love with Emma Swan.

He never acted on it in even the smallest manner, of course, any more than Emma ever dreamed of doing. No, both of them were so damnably polite and careful with their regard for each other that it damaged their friendship a little before they half realized it. Killian figured out what was happening, of course, being able to read both of them better than anyone else in the world. And in typical pirate fashion, he arranged for a parley between them.

“So this is where you work now?” Emma said, making conversation as she glanced around the Rabbit Hole. The bar wasn't open to the public yet; it was still too early in the day for that, but the quiet atmosphere was the perfect setting for their little tête-à-tête. “Funny, I always pictured you working at the marina.”

Liam shrugged a shoulder, putting away some of the clean highball glasses that had been brought to him. “I didn't exactly picture a lot of things the way they turned out.”

She winced before she realized that Liam's tone had been matter-of-fact rather than accusatory or melancholy. “Yeah. I know. Liam--”

“It's forgotten,” he told her with a crooked smile. “Look, I know my brother's trying very hard not to be jealous, and wants us to repair whatever awkwardness and problems that we have between us in the interest of familial harmony, but...with all due love and respect for Killian, that's just not going to work for us, is it?” He fixed her with a sober expression as he wiped down the bar.

“No,” she agreed, swallowing around the lump in her throat, “it's not.”

“Things have to break sometimes before we can mend them,” he went on, scrubbing at a non-existent stain on the polished wood. “So it gets harder before it gets easier.”

“I know.” She hesitated for a moment and slid off the stool. “Liam, I really do like you,” she whispered, tears pricking at her eyes.

He looked up, then, his own eyes suspiciously bright. “And I like you,” he said softly, a vulnerability in his face that made Emma's heart ache for what couldn't be. “But he's my brother. _Your_ True Love. And I need some space.” 

“I get it,” she murmured. And she did. She really did. It made sense. And it was probably the wisest course of action until the feelings that had sprung up between them died a little over time. But still, it hurt.

 So she gave him space. And more time. But the careful distance and the too-polite interactions remained, eroding very little in the time leading up to the wedding. And Emma began to despair just a little that she had ruined the relationship with her soon to be brother-in-law; it was a bitter irony after Liam's initial wishes to the contrary, and one that Emma couldn't swallow after she had managed to let him in.

But she never regretted bringing him back. Not for one instance. Not even when she received a note from Hades one week prior to the wedding that said simply, _Clever girl. I'll be waiting._  

-/-

“Emmaaaaaa!” a familiar voice squealed from behind her.

  
Emma turned, being nearly tackled to the ground by Elsa's younger sister, Anna, who was talking a mile a minute. “Oh, I'm so glad to see you!” she gushed. “And congratulations! I'm so happy you're getting married! Oh, I wish we'd been able to have you at my wedding--”

“Anna, let her breathe!” Elsa chuckled, waiting in a more reserved fashion to greet Emma. “It's wonderful to see you,” she murmured, when it became her turn to greet the bride-to-be. “We're so happy to have the chance to attend the wedding. However did you think of it?”

“It was Ana's idea,” she admitted. “She's close friends with Rabbit, so she talked him into transporting our friends from Arendelle as well as Wonderland.”

“Yes,” Elsa said, linking arms with her as they walked toward Granny's (Anna and Kristoff followed at a distance, with Sven), “from everything you mentioned in your letter, I'm interested to meet her.”

“She's good people,” Emma agreed.

But it wasn't Elsa's introduction to Ana that was the highlight of the evening when the members of the wedding party met at her parents apartment for the rehearsal dinner. Rather, it was Liam's introduction to Elsa that fascinated Emma and amused Killian.

Liam, perhaps predictably, had tucked himself behind the wet bar and served as impromptu bartender, amusing the small crowd of guests with colorful stories of his seafaring adventures with his brother. Ana's husband, Will, particularly enjoyed the stories, exchanging a few colorful tales of Wonderland in return, and the two men soon arranged to meet for drinks and darts before Will returned with his wife to Wonderland. And it was amidst this male camaraderie that Tink sidled up to the bar and flashed a dazzling smile at Liam. “A scotch and soda for me and a Kinky Jack Frost for my friend, here.” She nodded at Elsa, who stood at her elbow with a puzzled expression on her face.

“A what?” Liam said distractedly, automatically reaching for the scotch to prepare Tink's drink. “I'm sorry,” he said, opening the bottle, “I'm not familiar with that drink. Perhaps if you told me what's in it...?”

“I'm afraid I'm not familiar with it, either,” Elsa explained with a wry smile.

Liam glanced up automatically as he poured the scotch, seeking out the source of the voice speaking to him. And promptly missed the glass, pouring the expensive scotch over half the bar before he realized it. “Damn,” he swore, after he recovered. He reached for a rag to mop it up and knocked over the bucket of ice in the process.

The ice scattered. Emma watched as Elsa made a small motion, halting the cubes in mid-air before they could drop to the floor. Liam blinked, staring in wonder at the tiny, glittering cubes suspended around him. “How...?” he managed in confusion.

To Emma's astonishment, her normally calm and unruffled friend blushed to the roots of her hair. “It's—it's just a thing I do,” she explained almost apologetically.

Tink watched all of this, saying nothing, a secretive smile curling across her face.

“A very useful thing thing in this instance,” Liam said, flashing Elsa one of his charming smiles once he recovered. “Thank you.”

Turning even redder at the compliment, Elsa mumbled something incoherent and feigned the need to be elsewhere.

“But—what about your drink?” Liam called after her helplessly, his eyes tracking her across the room as she slipped away.

“Smooth, mate,” Will chortled.

“Did you see all of that?” Emma whispered, elbowing Killian. “What do you make of it?”

“I think,” he answered, pulling her close for a dance and nuzzling his face against her neck as Mary-Margaret started some new music, “everything is working out as it should, much sooner than we ever thought.”

-/-

For the first time in more than twenty-eight years, the convent's church was filled to the brim. Guests were packed in like sardines; it seemed the wedding of Snow White and Prince Charming's daughter was a social event that was not to be missed, even for the shadier residents of Storybrooke. Mary-Margaret, with the aid of the fairies, had decorated the church lavishly with tasteful sprays of flowers and a strange mist of floating lights that twinkled suspiciously like fireflies. Soft music, provided by a choir of the fairies, filled the church, creating a serene atmosphere while the guests waited for the ceremony to begin.

Emma watched patiently from the vestibule as the bridal attendants walked up the aisle with their escorts. Her mother and Liam went first, serving as matron-of-honor and best man. The decision of whether to ask his brother or David had been an agonizing one for Killian, given the awkward situation between bride, groom, and brother, but in the end, blood and loyalty ultimately won out for both brothers—the one setting aside his jealousy and possessiveness, the other setting aside his feelings for the bride. The Jones brothers, Killian had explained one night as he and Emma had lain naked beneath the sheets, their bodies pressed close, had spent centuries being parted by death; neither of them was willing to let the seeds of conflict take root to separate them all over again.

Elsa and David joined Mary-Margaret and Liam on the altar steps. Emma glanced from Elsa to Liam, looking for some kind of reaction from either of them, maybe a spark, but found Elsa studiously avoiding Liam's gaze—which was, she noticed to her dismay as Ana and Robin took their places up on the altar steps, centered on Emma herself, his expression wistful.

The music changed, signaling Emma's entrance, and the guests all turned to look at her. Emma smiled, a bit unnerved by all the attention, and swept up the long aisle, the trailing bouquet of ivy and violets clutched in her hands as if it were a life preserver. Her eyes sought Killian's, instinctually seeking the assurance she needed, and found them shining with wonder at the sight of her. Emma's smiled widened, becoming genuine as she beamed at him, anticipation filling her as she neared the end of the aisle and reached for him.

He took her arm, murmuring compliments about how breathtaking she looked, and Emma found herself unable to reply in return as she took in Killian's own handsome countenance. It was all she could do not to pull him into a kiss then and there and drag him off to someplace more private, an impulse that Killian seemed to share, from the glint in his eyes, but Tink's opening words distracted them both before they could act on it.

Having a fairy officiate their ceremony had seemed like a strange idea when Killian had first suggested it, because wasn't Tink technically a nun, and what kind of convent didn't have a priest to say Mass for them, she'd argued. (The kind that Regina created, he'd replied sardonically, because what had she really known about the inner workings of any of that at the time the curse had been created?) But when Killian had pointed out that Tink had recognized them as True Loves back in Neverland, and had even brought together Robin and Regina after all these years, it seemed appropriate that the fairy should officiate the ceremony in which they committed themselves to each other forever.

“Do you, Killian, take Emma to be your wife, promising to always find her, through dark curses and memory loss, and forsaking all others for now and all time?”

“I do,” he promised, his hands gently squeezing hers as he gazed into her eyes, “and I always will.”

“And do you, Emma, take Killian to be your husband, promising to always find him, through dark curses and memory loss, and forsaking all others for now and all time?”

Emma smiled, sinking into the depths of Killian's brilliant blue eyes as she said with a conviction that emanated from every atom of her being, “I do.”

“Then I now pronounce you princess bride and pirate captain,” Tink said with a mischievous smile. “I don't suppose I need to tell you--”

Emma grabbed Killian by the lapels and crushed her lips to his. His hook encircled her waist in response, and his other hand eagerly threaded through her hair, drawing her deeper into the kiss. A warm, heady sensation that felt rather like she'd imbibed rather too much rum swept through Emma from her head to her toes; she felt her magic flare out of her in response, and knew it instinctively as the seal of True Love.

“--that you can kiss now?” Tink finished with laughter in her voice as the guests erupted in raucous cheers and applause.

They pulled apart several moments later, amid catcalls from Leroy and embarrassed muttering from David, with sheepish grins. Neither of them took much notice of these reactions; Emma and Killian only had eyes for each other, and the rest of the world faded away for the first precious moments of their marriage as they leaned in for another kiss.

-/-

The reception was a smash. Deciding to hold a dual wedding and Thanksgiving celebration turned out to be a brilliant idea. The potluck nature of the event seemed to bolster spirits, and even the most prickly residents of Storybrooke let down their guard for a temporary truce. There was something about the combination of homemade food and holiday spirit (and perhaps the abundance of alcohol) that brought together even the unlikeliest of friends: Sneezy danced with Blue. Victor, Ruby, and Mulan formed a cozy threesome beside the bonfires for much of the evening. Maurice and Maleficent exchanged wary pleasantries across the table. Emma had even seen (an admittedly very drunk) Leroy flirting with a bewildered Zelena over the smoked brisket at one of the buffet tables, and swore to Killian she would have nightmares forever after.

But in spite of the revelry and good cheer, two members of the wedding party remained stubbornly quiet and aloof. Emma had expected as much from Elsa, who had always been rather shy and socially awkward, despite Anna's best efforts otherwise, but Killian clearly expected much different behavior from his brother, if the perturbed glances he kept casting toward Liam were any indication. “Why doesn't he just bloody well make a move?” he growled. “Any fool can see they're attracted to each other, the way they keep making sheep's eyes at each other when they think the other one isn't looking.”

“Yearning looks and doey eyes indeed,” she muttered to herself.

“What's that?”

“Nothing. Just...remembering something.” She set her drink down and stood up, reaching for Killian. “They'll get to it in their own time. Look at how long it took us to get where we are. Come on, let's dance.”

And come together they finally did, though it wasn't for dancing, but only quiet laughter and conversation. Yet even so, there was no mistaking the way Elsa's eyes shone with with wonder and longing as they spoke. Nor could it be missed that the tension of several weeks had melted from Liam's posture, replaced by an almost lazy relaxation in Elsa's presence.

“What do you think now?” Emma prodded Killian smugly, nodding at her best friend and brother-in-law as they bade each other a shy goodbye at the end of the night.

“I still think he's a sodding idiot for not asking her to dance,” Killian grumbled, but his eyes were alight with a joy for his brother that belied his the tone of his words, “but at least he seems happier now. He may find hope for his own future yet.”

-/-

They rented a small cottage in Connecticut for their honeymoon. It was the one part of her wedding that Emma had been adamant about. She'd be damned if their honeymoon, of all things, was interrupted by a psychotic dark fairy or a mad wizard that threw everything into some chaotic situation that couldn't wait a few days to be dealt with. No, Emma Swan-Jones was determined to go on a nice, normal honeymoon in a nice, normal town, thank you very much.

Their goodbyes were fierce, if a bit protracted beyond what was normal. That Emma and Killian might return to find the town suddenly abandoned, or filled with friends and family who could no longer remember them, was a possibility that was sadly all too real. And as such, they were determined to make the most of their goodbyes.

“Be good,” Emma commanded Henry as she hugged him. “Don't antagonize your mom, listen to your new step-dad, and look out for Roland at school. Mary-Margaret says he's been having trouble adjusting to school and making friends.”

“Got it,” Henry nodded. He tilted his head to the side. “But isn't Killian my new step-dad?””

“No, just the newest,” she corrected with a smile, “unless you're willing to try calling Robin 'old' to his face.”

“That probably wouldn't be a good idea,” Henry agreed with a grin, stepping back to allow Mary-Margaret and David to offer their own goodbyes and well-wishes for their honeymoon.

“Make sure you call or text when you get there,” her mother reminded her, bouncing Emma's fussing baby brother in her arms with a worried look on her face.

“We'll be fine,” Emma assured her, smiling wryly. “It's only for a week. Besides, there's a better chance of something happening to you guys here in Storybrooke than to us.”

“You're right,” Mary-Margaret fretted, her eyes widening as this new thought struck her, “maybe _we_ should text you--”

“I think,” David said reasonably, “we should just let them go and--” he paused, a pained look crossing his face before he uttered his next words, “--enjoy their honeymoon.”

“I don't think that will be a problem, mate,” Killian said with a saucy wink that made David roll his eyes and mutter several choice words about son-in-law pirates before he shuffled off with his wife and son.

“Killian,” Liam said, stepping up to offer his own goodbyes. The two brothers gave each other a hearty embrace, clapping each other on the back. “Have a good honeymoon.”

Liam peered at Emma questioningly, and she nodded at him. “Come here,” she insisted, sweeping him into a brief hug. “We're family now. You can't avoid me anymore,” she warned good-naturedly.

“I won't,” he promised. “Take good care of him while I'm gone, will you?”

“Gone?” Emma said in surprise, at the same time that Killian demanded, “Where are you going?”

He shrugged. “Will invited me to visit him and Ana in Wonderland for a while, and Rabbit agreed to take me over to Arendelle afterward--”

“Arendelle?” they both echoed with interest.

Liam scrubbed at the scruff on his jaw in embarrassment. “Elsa and I are just friends,” he insisted with a firmness that reminded Emma an awful lot of her own insistence that the kiss with Killian in Neverland had been a “one time thing.”

“Enjoy your visits, then,” Emma told him before Killian could harass him further. “Give my best to everyone.”

“Always.” He stepped back then, conceding with that simple gesture all of his remaining feelings for Emma, and waved a goodbye.

And when Emma glanced back at him in the rear view mirror before she drove out of Storybrooke, his expression held none of the stoic control of a man who feared he might break if he let down his guard for a single moment. Rather, for the first time in since he'd been brought back from the Underworld, Liam Jones looked as if he were a man that had quite literally been given a new lease on life.

-/-

“So what do you think the big news is?” Emma wondered, peering into the floor length mirror in their bedroom while she pulled her hair away from her face and secured it in a ponytail. “So much for glowing,” she snorted as she caught sight of her unusually pale complexion. “I look horrible.”

“You look like mum in the throes of morning sickness,” Killian corrected, slipping his arms around her from behind. “And you are always beautiful to me.” He placed his hands on her abdomen. Emma wasn't showing yet, but that didn't stop him from touching the place where their baby lay nestled inside of her, with a wonder and possessiveness that Emma found endearing and completely, utterly _Killian_. 

“As for the news he hinted at yesterday,” Killian mused, “I suspect Liam's finally decided to move to Arendelle. It's taken him long enough. It's been almost two ruddy years of visiting back and forth.”

“I didn't know you were so eager to see your brother go,” she teased.

“I'm not,” he disagreed, “but I spent centuries mourning Liam and the life he could have had; the family he could have raised. I just want to see my brother happy and settled down. Even if it's in a different realm.”

“Well, we'll never know unless we get over to his apartment for lunch,” Emma pointed out. “I just hope I can manage not to get sick all over his floor if the food doesn't agree with the baby.”

“Liam and I spent years scrubbing vomit off ships' decks, courtesy of sailors who'd imbibed too much rum,” he assured Emma, releasing her to go fetch her red leather jacket from the closet. He helped her into it, pulling her long ponytail free from the collar. “I'm sure he won't be phased if his niece or nephew causes you to disgrace yourself all over his apartment floor.”

The walk to Liam's apartment was short and pleasant, the weather being neither too hot or too cold (which was a miracle in itself, given the fluctuating hormones that Emma was dealing with these days), and Emma was almost disappointed when they arrived. The fresh, salty air that rolled in from the sea seemed to help calm her nausea. She waited patiently while Killian knocked on the door, wondering if Anna and Kristoff's newest baby had arrived yet. Elsa hadn't mentioned anything in the last letter she'd sent back, nor had Liam mentioned anything, but surely it must be any day now, if it hadn't happened already.

The door opened, and Liam greeted them with an easy smile. “Come in, come in!” he told them, stepping back to usher them through the threshold. “Elsa's been waiting on pins and needles for you to get here.”

“Wait, Elsa's in town?” Emma said, shucking off her coat with Killian's help. “Where is she? When did she arrive? Why didn't you tell us?”

“Yes. In the living room. Two days ago. We wanted a little time to ourselves,” Liam answered with a twinkle in his eyes. “I'm sure you understand,” he smirked.

Emma rolled her eyes, but truth be told, she was very pleased to know that Elsa and Liam were sneaking in unscheduled little visits with each other. It had to be difficult to maintain a relationship that kept them not just in different towns, but entirely different realms. The fact that they were making an effort to fit in additional visits boded well for them. Perhaps Killian's instincts were right, and this announcement was about putting an end to all the traveling back and forth with the White Rabbit and communicating through magic mirrors.

Killian, to no surprise of Emma's, seemed to read her mind. “Are we to take it, then, that this news of yours is about making things more official between you two?” he asked as the three of them moved down the hallway toward the living room.

“Uh, well,” Liam stammered, “Elsa, darling?”

Elsa stood up from Liam's easy chair just as they entered the living room, her cheeks flushed and her eyes aglow with happiness. A blanket fell from her lap, revealing a belly that was noticeably rounder than Emma remembered it being during Elsa's last visit to Storybrooke. “Surprise?” she said, with an uncertain grin.

Emma stared for several moments, processing their little deception, before she bounded forward and wrapped Elsa in a hug that was just shy of bone-crushing. Behind her, she heard Killian slap Liam on the back and offer his own hearty congratulations. “I'm so happy for you!” she whispered.

“You're not mad?” Elsa asked.

“Mad?” She pulled away with a puzzled frown. “Why would I be mad?”

“Well—it's just that, with you just finding out that you were expecting too, I didn't want you to feel as if I were trying to overshadow you.”

“Are you kidding? This is great! Now I have someone to commiserate with about all of this. How long have you known?”

“Elsa found out a couple of weeks ago,” Liam told her, accepting a proffered flask of rum from Killian. He took a celebratory swig before handing it back to his brother, who also indulged. “Right about when you did. We kept quiet about it for a while, because we needed to figure a few things out.”

“About that,” Killian began, peering at Elsa with narrowed eyes, “Am I to take it this means you're going to abscond with my brother to Arendelle?”

“Well...” she said, turning red again, “um...yes?”

“Killian, don't tease her,” Emma chided. “I think it's wonderful news. But there's something I don't understand,” she frowned. “How far along are you?”

“Ten weeks. The royal physician thought I was much further along, considering how I'm already showing, but Liam took me to see Dr. Whale yesterday, and he used that machine to see how big our babies were--”

“Hold up,” Emma interrupted. “Babies? As in plural? More than one?”

“Twins!” Killian chortled, slapping Liam on the back again. “There's the Jones virility for you.”

Emma shared a look with Elsa and rolled her eyes. “Ego, more like,” she muttered to her friend, as she refrained from pointing out that men had nothing whatsoever to do with the occurrence of multiples.

“Not twins,” Liam corrected, rubbing the back of his neck. “Triplets.”

Killian peered at his brother and handed him his flask of rum again. “Here, I think you've more need of this than me, mate.”

-/-

Elsa and Liam married two months later, and the wedding was one of the most elaborate celebrations Arendelle had ever seen. The people of Arendelle were overjoyed. Their queen, who had once shut herself away from people, had embraced family again and found love. That Liam Jones was a sea captain wasn't even given a second thought, much less a single objection. The castle would be filled to the brim with children and laughter again, between Anna's progeny and Elsa's, and the people of Arendelle couldn't have asked for a better reason to celebrate.

“Tink looks rather pleased with herself, don't you think?” Killian observed as he danced with Emma during the reception. “Another successful match. She'll be insufferable with her gloating for the next several weeks.”

“Oh, let her. She deserves it,” Emma decided. “She lost her wings over it, once. I'd gloat, too, if I could rub my successes in Blue's face once in a while.”

“Good point.”

A throat cleared, interrupting their conversation. “May I have this dance?” Liam's asked, peering at Emma.

“That reminds me, I believe I owe the bride a dance,” Killian decided, tactfully withdrawing to seek out his new sister-in-law.

Liam took Emma's hands in his and drew her into a dance. “I never thanked you,” he began, “for all that you did for me.” Emma opened her mouth to insist that thanks wasn't necessary, but Liam continued, “I know it was mostly for Killian. I'm not daft. But if you hadn't brought me back, I'd have never met Elsa.” He peered at her, then, his blue-grey eyes full of sincerity. “And I can't ever thank you enough for your role in that.”

“Should you be thanking Tink for that? She had more to do with it than I did.”

“No,” he disagreed, “Tink only engineered my introduction to Elsa. You showed me that love involves sacrifice for the other person's happiness. And I would do anything, give up anything to make Elsa happy. I don't think I would have been capable of that before you. Thank you.”

“You big, lovable idiot,” she sniffed, hormones overtaking her usual control of her emotions as she drew him into an enormous hug, “What are sisters for?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
